Part 7

“O brother! the meaning is clear,” cried Tulsí Rám. “Whatever be the anguish which it may cost, by the means of _Help from above_ we must part from and cast from us whatever is tainted by the poison of sin. You can never have health, never have peace, nay, your very life is in imminent peril, unless whatever has been poisoned by the _Uljhánewale gunah_ be instantly and thoroughly cut away.”

Poor unhappy Nihál Chand looked like one in despair. Even the lightest touch on the poisoned place gave him pain; how could he then endure suffering which the knife would inflict?

Juwalí had taken the Book from the hand of her husband, and now, with a trembling voice, read this sentence aloud: _Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord and He will have mercy upon him, and unto our God, for He will abundantly pardon._

The words were words of hope, and from hope some courage came back to the heart of Nihál Chand. “I will submit,” he said; “and if I suffer, I suffer but according to my deserts.”

Silently but sadly Nihál Chand endured the needful anguish; the part poisoned by the serpent was cut away, while Juwalí, on her knees, wept and prayed for her erring brother.

“Now, O Nihál! you have parted with that which kept you from peace,” said the faithful Tulsí Rám, whose heart had bled for the sinner even while, with _Help from above_, he had inflicted the pain; “now once more you may hope to possess our Father’s gift of Pardon, Purity, and Heaven.”

“Never!” groaned Nihál Chand. “When I yielded to Temptation, when I gave up my threefold treasure, it was lost to me past recovery. Go on, ye happy ones! for the treasure may still be yours; but as for me, I shall carry a scar on my breast, and a deep wound in my heart, to my grave.”

Nihál Chand closed his eyes, for he was too faint and too much exhausted to speak more, far less to proceed on his way. The souls of Tulsí Rám and Juwalí were full of compassion for him who so bitterly repented having given way to Temptation, and who so mourned over the disgrace which he had brought on the name of Christian. Tulsí Rám resolved to remain for a while by his brother, till Nihál Chand should be refreshed by a little rest. Juwalí, at her husband’s desire, retired to the distance of a few paces, leaving the brothers together. There Juwalí knelt down and prayed for her husband, and for herself, and for the penitent Nihál Chand. Then, being very weary, Juwalí dropped asleep at the foot of a banyan-tree.

In vain Tulsí Rám strove to give comfort and hope to his younger brother; in vain he spoke of the mercy freely offered to all who repent and cast away sin. Though the poisoned part, by means of _Help from above_, had been cut away from the breast of Nihál Chand, a painful wound yet remained, nor could he forget the past.

“Oh! that I had resisted Temptation,” he cried; “oh! that I had pressed to my heart the jewels of Pardon, Purity, and Heaven; the poisonous reptile would have lost all power to injure me then.”[39]

Nihál Chand was sinking deeper and deeper into despair, when Juwalí, having arisen from sleep, advanced towards the brothers with radiant joy sparkling in her eyes.

“O my lord,” she exclaimed, addressing herself to her husband, “I have been sent in my sleep a strange and beautiful dream. Behold, I saw Temptation, the dark enemy, the robber of souls, hurrying away with the jewels of my lord’s brother in his grasp,—even the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond joined in one setting of gold. Suddenly a white dove swooped down from the sky, and caught the jewels out of the evil one’s hand, and bore them away out of sight. Then I heard a voice, sweeter than music; and these were the words which it uttered: ‘Let the penitent who sorrows for sin, let the penitent who hath put away sin, again search for his forfeited treasure, and he shall find it once more, where he sought for it at first, even at the foot of the Cross.”

The first gleam of hope that had appeared on the face of the wounded Nihál Chand brightened it as he listened to the account of the dream of his sister. Leaning heavily, very heavily, on a staff of Prayer, he struggled to his feet, and in a voice faint yet resolute he said,—“Let us go, and at once. If I, poor wounded sinner, must die, I will at least die at the foot of the Cross!”

Onwards the three Christians sped together. There was small difficulty to Tulsí Rám, with his knife, _Help from above_, in removing the earth which covered a golden casket. The Christian eagerly raised and opened it, and Juwalí uttered an exclamation of delight as she looked on its contents. There lay three splendid ornaments, each containing three matchless jewels, worth more than all the crowns of the world,—even the ruby of Pardon, the pearl of Purity, and the diamond of Heaven!

On his knees, and with head bowed down, as deeply feeling how unworthy he was of his Father’s gift, Nihál Chand received his restored treasure, and pressed it first to his lips and then to his wounded breast. But no sooner had the jewels been placed near his heart than, to his amazement as well as delight, new health and strength were poured into his frame. Nihál Chand’s wound became perfectly healed, and, springing to his feet, he again stood erect, a brave and rejoicing man; a Christian strong to wrestle against Temptation, and overcome it wherever he should meet it again.

And, like Nihál Chand, Tulsí Rám and his much loved wife, Juwalí, the faithful and meek, wore over their hearts for ever the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond, their sins all pardoned, and their lives made pure. Rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing instant in prayer, the three Christians looked forward to the glorious time when, having been faithful unto death, they should receive the crown of life which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.

* * * * *

O reader! in this story have you read anything of your own? You may have crossed the waters of baptism, you may have received the name of Christian, but have you yielded to temptation, is the venom of the reptile, besetting sin, whether pride, or falsehood, or the love of money, at this moment poisoning your soul? Oh! cut away and cast the evil from you, by means of help from above, or you will surely perish in your sin. Even for your wound there is healing, even for your guilt there is pardon; the pearl of purity may yet be yours, you may yet inherit the kingdom of heaven. _The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin_; the Holy Spirit is given in answer to prayer. But oh, delay not! for time is short, the day of grace may soon be past. It is the penitent sinner, the faithful and the persevering, who at the foot of the cross shall find the priceless treasures—the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond—Pardon, Purity and Heaven!

VII.

The Broken Fence.

On a high hill, in a mountainous part of the Punjaub, was built a house goodly and fair. In this dwelt a lady, whose name was Ashley Sahiba. In her heart was much love to God, and much love for poor little Indian children. Under the care of this lady were many girls; some of them were orphans, and some of them had parents who lived in the plains, and who wished their children to enjoy the cooler air of the hills. These parents were glad to have their daughters under the care of Ashley Sahiba, who would not only teach them to read and write and work, but who would also try to teach them to be gentle, obedient, and pious.[40] Ashley Sahiba prayed much with the children and for the children, and there was not one of the girls who had not a place in her heart.

But there was one of the girls who was a cause of much trouble and sorrow to the lady. The name of this girl was Ghuldasta. There were two things in her that occasioned this trouble and sorrow. The first thing was that Ghuldasta had a strange kind of blindness. She could see, and see well, every object that was but a few inches from her, so that she could read, and write, and sew,—and she did these things as well as any other girl in the school; but Ghuldasta could see nothing at even a foot’s distance from her eyes. The girl never saw the path before her, and therefore often stumbled over things that lay in her way, and had many painful falls; for Ghuldasta scorned a careful walk, and never asked for a guide. Ghuldasta had a little ivory box of precious ointment which had been sent to her by her Father, and which, by his command, she always carried in her bosom. “Let my child carefully anoint her eyes with this ointment,” the wise Father had said, “and she will soon see quite clearly, so that she will not so stumble and fall.” Ghuldasta had the ointment always within her reach, but, strange to say, she never cared to use it at all; she contented herself with looking at the outside of the box, on the lid of which was written the name of the ointment—_Self-examination mixed with Prayer_; whilst round the edge appeared the words, _Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves_ (2 Cor. xiii. 5). Ghuldasta had heard that the ointment would make the eyes smart, and she never would put it on hers. “I can see quite well enough,” she would say; “no one can read the Bible better than I; why should I trouble myself with this Self-examination? It would be of no use to me; and I dislike it of all things.”

After hearing that Ghuldasta thus disobeyed her wise Father’s commands, no one can be surprised at being told the second cause of Ashley Sahiba’s sorrow concerning the girl. Ghuldasta was much under the power of two wicked spirits, whose names are Pride and Self-will.[41] She never saw them because of her blindness. If she could have seen them, she would have been frightened, for what is so hideous as sin? But Ghuldasta often heard their voices, and, alas! to her those voices were pleasant. Ashley Sahiba more than suspected that these wicked spirits had power over her young charge; for, though she could not actually see or hear them, she saw the effect which their company had on the unhappy Ghuldasta. Often did Ashley Sahiba warn all her children: “O my beloved ones! beware of Pride and Self-will, who often steal upon us to mislead and destroy. They are sent by the great Enemy, who wishes to ruin our souls.” But though so often tenderly warned, blind and foolish Ghuldasta was not in the least afraid of listening to Pride and Self-will.

I have said that the house in which the lady and children dwelt was built on the top of a high hill. The house had pleasant grounds around it, in which the children could play. All round this enclosure was a fence made of stakes of the choicest wood. This fence was very needful, as the hill was in some parts so steep as to be dangerous, and the children might often have fallen down precipices but for this protection. On every one of the stakes was inscribed in golden letters a precious text, which glittered brightly in the sun, so that the fence was an ornament to the place, as well as a safeguard to the children. The name of the fence was Duty.

Some of the children were exceedingly glad that there was this beautiful fence around the enclosure. “There are many wild beasts in the mountains,” they said; “cheetahs, and bears, and the terrible lion called Shaitán, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour. But for this fence we should never feel safe. We never wish to venture beyond it.”

But Ghuldasta was not one of these children. She had always a great desire to wander beyond this fence; and often and often did Pride and Self-will urge her to do so.

Said Pride: “You have nothing to fear. What do you care for cheetahs or lions?”

Whispered Self-will: “It is very hard to be shut up in a small enclosure like this. Outside, on the mountains, are many beautiful flowers and delicious fruits. When you are close to them, you will see and enjoy them; you will make wreaths for your hair of the flowers, you will feast at your ease on the fruits.”

Then added Pride: “Could not a brave and resolute girl such as you are manage to get through the fence?”

It is very dangerous to listen to Pride and Self-will, the black serpents that speak now as the serpent spake to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Ghuldasta began to think in her heart, “Can I not contrive to break down or pull up a little bit of the fence, just enough to let me squeeze myself through the opening?” Evil thinking soon leads to evil doing.

There was one particular spot in the enclosure, shaded from view by thick bushes, to which Ghuldasta now often wandered. She never asked any of her companions to go with her thither. “I would rather,” she said, “be alone.” Who would have guessed what the foolish and sinful girl was doing, when she spent the greater part of her leisure time in this solitary retreat? Ghuldasta was, with a knife, day by day cutting away at two of the stakes of the beautiful fence. On one of these stakes was written: _Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder. Yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility_ (1 Peter v. 5). And on the second stake was written: _Obey them that have the rule over you, and submit yourselves: for they watch for your souls, as they that must give account_ (Heb. xiii. 17). Ghuldasta did not care to read the holy words inscribed on the stakes; her only anxiety was to get rid of whatever hindered her going whither Pride and Self-will made her eager to go. And, alas! all those days during which Ghuldasta was cutting and doing her utmost to destroy the holy fence, she, with the other girls, regularly read the Bible, sang hymns, and knelt down to pray. While she was obeying Pride and Self-will, and neglecting her Father’s commands, every prayer and hymn from this girl’s lips was in itself a grievous sin.

Very early one morning, before the rest of the girls had come forth into the grounds, Ghuldasta finished her wicked work. She had cut so very deep into each of the two stakes in the fence of Duty, that she was now able to snap them off altogether, and fling them far away down the mountain. She then tried to squeeze herself through the gap which she had made, and easily enough succeeded in doing so; for, alas! wilful sinners have no difficulty in passing beyond the fence of Duty, when once they have broken the holy commands which form it.

Ghuldasta was rejoicing in the thought that now she could wander whither she would, with none to restrain her, when suddenly she felt a firm grasp on her shoulder.

“Wretched, blind girl!” exclaimed a voice behind her, “whither are you going?” The voice was that of Ashley Sahiba.

Ghuldasta could not see the look of sorrow on the face of her guardian, any more than she could behold the love and pity in her heart; the girl only heard that the sound of the voice was angry, and felt that the grasp of the hand was a tight one.

“Wrench yourself away!” cried Self-will.

“How can she speak in so harsh a tone? How dare she call you wretched and blind?” exclaimed Pride.

Ghuldasta was not strong enough to wrench herself away; but as soon as the lady had drawn her back through the gap in the fence, the girl flung herself on the ground in a terribly sulky fit. She would scarcely listen to the lady’s earnest words of warning.

“How unkind she is!” cried Self-will.

“How unjust she is!” muttered Pride.

It is sad to relate how completely these evil spirits held Ghuldasta in subjection. The girl was in a fit of ill-humour, and showed it in every way that she possibly could. She would not eat, she would not work; she behaved as if she thought that her tender friend had done her a cruel wrong in drawing her back from a perilous path. Ghuldasta was miserable herself, and tried to make all around her unhappy also. And yet this girl never looked upon herself as a grievous sinner. She had not anointed her eyes with the precious ointment contained in the ivory box.

“What shall I do?” thought Ashley Sahiba: “how shall I prevent my wilful, blind lamb from wandering in ways of destruction? She has broken down part of the fence; we cannot, with so many other children to care for, watch her night and day. I dread lest she should again attempt to escape and wander on the mountains, where there are precipices and rushing torrents, and where wild beasts roam about seeking for prey.”

After anxious thought Ashley Sahiba had the gap in the fence filled up by a quantity of sharp prickly thorns of which the name is Punishment. “Now I trust that my child will be safe,” thought she.

On the first opportunity the wilful Ghuldasta found her way back to the spot where she had broken a way through the fence; but when she attempted to pass through the gap, lo! sharp Punishment stayed her.

“Cruel, cruel Mem Sahiba!” exclaimed Ghuldasta, as she drew back her bleeding hand, which had been hurt by the thorns.

“She shall never stop you in this way!” cried Self-will.

“She finds fault with you because she does not love you as she loves the other girls,” muttered Pride. “She is hard, partial, and unjust.”

Ghuldasta resolved that even Punishment should not stop her. She remained all the rest of that day sulky and silent, revolving in her mind by what means she could still get her own way. Even during prayer-time all the thoughts of the sinful girl were turned in this direction. While the Mem Sahiba was reading the Bible aloud to her children, Ghuldasta was listening to the whispers of Pride and Self-will, which none could hear but herself.

Said Pride: “When none are near to watch you, take the thick black rug of Obstinacy and throw it right over the thorns. They may hurt you a little still, but they will not be able to stay you.”

“You will not care for a little pain, so that you get your own way,” cried Self-will.

When the house was hushed in silence,—when all the other girls were sleeping, and the weary Ashley Sahiba had closed her eyes in repose,—Ghuldasta silently arose from her bed, and felt her way to the place where hung the black rug. Bearing Obstinacy with her, and moving as stealthily as if she were a thief, the wilful girl contrived to quit the house and reach the spot to which she so often had turned her steps before. Ghuldasta flung the rug of Obstinacy over the thorns of Punishment, and found that by means of it she could manage to clamber over, though not without some pain. Ghuldasta was so much delighted at this, that almost unconsciously she began to sing, though in a tone too low to rouse any of the sleepers in the house, which was at some distance. Ghuldasta—O fearful mockery!—was actually humming a hymn when she passed beyond the fence of Duty. She had on her lips:

“There is a happy land, Far, far away.”[42]

But she was not to have time to sing about the “saints,” whose glory, if she went on in her wilful course, she never, never would share. Ghuldasta, though she knew it not, was on the path that leadeth to destruction. She had no right to sing of that happy land, from which she was actually trying to shut herself out for ever.

I have said that Ghuldasta was apt to walk carelessly, and that she was so near-sighted that, even in the light of day, she could not see the path before her. Suddenly, to her horror, the poor girl found herself plunging down a precipice! Screaming for help, Ghuldasta caught at the bushes to save herself: they somewhat broke but they could not prevent her fall; for the twigs gave way in her hand! Down—down—down,—crashing fell the miserable child! What would she not have given to have felt the firm grasp of her Mem Sahiba! what would she not have given to have been held fast by the thorns of Punishment!—anything, anything that might have saved her from the consequences of her own blind folly!

Poor Ghuldasta was senseless before she reached the bottom. Her clothes were rent; her body bruised and bleeding; much of her hair had been left on the bushes. After a while she came to herself, in terrible pain, and with perfect darkness around her. As Ghuldasta could only see objects very, very near her, it was now to her as if she lay at the bottom of a well.

“Where am I?” faintly murmured the miserable girl. Gradually she remembered all that had happened; but memory was anguish. Her best friend, her much-wronged friend, was, she doubted not, sleeping, all unconscious of the misery and danger of the ungrateful girl whom she had warned in vain. Ghuldasta’s young companions were slumbering in peace, till the morning’s light should awaken them to begin the occupations of the day. But for her own pride and wilfulness, Ghuldasta might at that moment have been safe and happy amongst them.

Ghuldasta longed to know where she was—to be able to look around her. She thought of her ivory box of ointment, which she still carried in her bosom. Ghuldasta could not move her arm without pain, and she knew well that the ointment would make her eyes smart; but lying as she was in helplessness and darkness in a strange place, for the first time the girl wished to obey her Father’s command.

Ghuldasta anointed her eyes with the salve of _Self-examination mixed with Prayer_, and the effect of that salve was marvellous beyond all expectation. At once perfect sight appeared to be restored; Ghuldasta saw everything around her bathed in the light of a clear full moon.

But it was a terrible view that was presented to the wilful transgressor. She saw her danger—she saw her sin. Above her was a rude jagged cliff, which, even had she been unhurt by her fall, she could never have power to climb. Ghuldasta lay upon thorns more painful than the thorns of Punishment which she had thought so cruel, and from these thorns she could not wrench herself free.

“Oh! what shall I do!—what shall I do!” exclaimed the unhappy and penitent girl, after she had exhausted herself by cries for help which no one could hear. “Would that I had never listened to the voices of the tempters!—would that I had never broken through the fence of Duty, and left my safe and happy home! I chose my own way; and a way of misery I have found it. I was lifted up with pride, and now I have fallen into the depths of despair!”

Ghuldasta could distinguish objects lying at no great distance from her, which she at once recognized; for on them golden letters were faintly glimmering in the moonlight. These were the stakes from the fence of Duty which she had herself broken and flung away!

“_Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder_,” faintly murmured Ghuldasta, as tears flowed fast down her cheeks. “Alas! _I_ would never submit; I was never clothed in humility; I would not obey her whom my Father had placed over me; I was insolent to her in my manner, I despised her wise commands, I abused her patience, I grieved her heart. I shall never, never see her again. Oh! will she ever give a sorrowful thought to her poor Ghuldasta! No, no; she will be happy with those who love her—those who obey her. I shall soon be forgotten by all. Even in heaven they will never meet, nor even miss, the wretched Ghuldasta!” At the miserable thought, the poor girl cried as if her heart would break.

Hark! what was that fearful sound in the distance? Was it not the roar of the lion who goeth about seeking whom he may devour? Ghuldasta could not fight, and she could not flee. She was ready to faint with terror. Then in her agony the repentant sinner betook herself to prayer. Never, never had poor Ghuldasta prayed before as she prayed on that night, with clasped hands and streaming eyes! Her supplications were no mockery now—they came from a broken and contrite heart.

Ashley Sahiba, meanwhile, lay asleep on her bed; but even in sleep her mind was restless. Thoughts of her self-willed, proud Ghuldasta mixed themselves with her dreams. At last the lady suddenly awoke, for it seemed as if a voice were whispering in her ears: “O shepherdess! where is your poor lost lamb?”